


Art Exchange

by pure1magination



Series: Art Exchange [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Awkward Flirting, Crush at First Sight, Crushes, Happy Ending, M/M, Peter is a dork, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:58:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3920353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pure1magination/pseuds/pure1magination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Parker is a second-year photography student who has a huge crush on Steve Rogers, art major and pretty much every art student's idol. Peter is dying to talk to him. </p><p>Much to his surprise, it's Steve who makes the first move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art Exchange

Peter Parker had the  _biggest_ _crush_ on Steve Rogers.

It was becoming a problem.

The first time he'd seen the blond waif, he'd been bent over a sketchpad, bangs flopping in his face, pencil scratching at the paper. His pink tongue had been poking out the corner of his mouth, his golden-brown eyebrows drawn together in concentration. He was sitting cross-legged on a park bench, blue plaid shirt stretched taut over his bony back, and all Peter could think was how much he wanted to sit behind that boy, put his chin on his shoulder, and watch him draw.

Steve Rogers was a very talented artist. His art hung in multiple galleries around campus. He was more-or-less the star of the art building. Steve had freshmen coming up to him all the time, telling him how much they admired his art. Peter had seen this happen a few times in the cafeteria. Some bright-eyed girl in a hoodie and yoga pants would tell Steve Rogers, with shining eyes, how much they loved his work. And the thing that really made Peter's heart squeeze was that every time, Steve would duck his head, smile shyly, and say something self-deprecating even as he accepted the compliment.

The second thing that really stuck Peter was his  _voice._  

Someone that tiny- you'd expect them to have a quiet, high-pitched voice to match. But Steve's voice was as strong and deep as a man twice his size. 

Peter didn't  _mean_ to stare when Steve ate at a nearby table at the cafeteria. But the delicate way his fingers moved, the silent determination with which he ate his food, the kind way he smiled at whoever greeted him-- Peter couldn't tear his eyes away. It was so bad sometimes, he forgot to eat his own food until Steve left. Peter was really developing a taste for cold burgers, cold spaghetti, cold everything.

But it was worth it. Every moment in Steve's presence was the highlight of Peter's day. He'd never get tired of watching and listening to him.

The darn thing was, Peter was dying to  _talk_ to him, he just didn't know how.

What do you say to the most perfect guy on campus? 'Hi, I'm Peter, I watch you eat?' 'I watch you draw?' 'By the way, have you ever considered modeling for nude photography?' -No friggin' way.

So when Steve Rogers showed up at a park off-campus, right where Peter was taking photographs of ducks and trees and stuff, Peter was so distracted by Steve's quiet presence on the bench, his photos were coming out like shit. Blurry, unfocused, the composition completely off. Complete amateur work.

He found himself wandering closer and closer to Steve's bench, where Steve was contentedly sketching something, expression breathtakingly serene. He kicked himself mentally when he approached the bench and the words "Whatcha drawing?" leapt out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Steve glanced up and took out an earbud. "What?"

Peter felt his cheeks heat pink. "Uh, I said 'whatcha drawing'?"  _Stupid stupid stupid--_

Steve smiled. "I really like this view of the pond." He spun his sketch to face Peter. There, half-filled-in on the paper and looking impossibly perfect, was a sketch of the pond, the ducks, the wildflowers, and the trees beyond.

"Wow!"

Steve scratched the back of his neck. "It'll look better once it's finished."

"No, no! It's--  _wow._ "  _Words, Peter. What are words_

"You think?" Steve's eyes were fixed on Peter in a way that sent heat straight to his groin. Those eyelashes should be illegal.

"Uh... Yeah!" Peter sat next to Steve on the bench. "Wanna see my pictures? -I've been trying to capture the same thing. I think you did it better though."

Steve smiled crookedly and scooted closer. "Sure!"

Peter fumbled to open the viewscreen on his camera and thumb through the pictures. He hoped Steve didn't notice how bad his hands were shaking.

Much to his surprise, Steve added, "I saw you taking pictures. Had half a mind to sketch you in. You seemed really into it."

Peter nearly dropped his camera. "Oh! You-- you did?"  _Way to sound cool and poised. Totally acing this._

Steve's chuckle sent vibrations through all the right places. "You're pretty hard to miss."

Peter glanced down at his outfit self-consciously. He was wearing a red hoodie and dark blue jeans, and his favorite pair of red converse. "Oh.."

Steve leaned a little closer and peered closer at the screen. Peter held his breath, but not before catching the gentle scent of violet shampoo and barbershop-esque aftershave, mingling with sun-warmed fabric. He bit his lip. Steve pointed at something on the screen. "I like that."

Peter's blood was rushing in his ears. "Y-yeah?"

Steve nodded slowly. "Great angle." Steve's bony shoulder was brushing against Peter's upper arm, his elbow was just behind Peter's elbow, and his hand was casually resting near Peter's thigh to keep his balance. Peter was really starting to feel light-headed. Steve glanced up at him. Those baby blues looked impossibly soft in the pinks of the sunset. "You a photography major?"

"Uh," Peter was starting to lose his mind from Steve being so close, "yeah. How'd you know?"

"Seen you around campus."

Peter's heart was racing.

Steve straightened, glanced at his sketchbook, then back up at the pond. "Guess I lost track of time," he admitted. "Could I use your pictures for reference? -I really want to finish this sketch."

"Sure!" Peter blurted out. "We could go back to my dorm room, I could blow them up real big on my computer screen so you could have a better view!"

Steve eyed him sideways, expression unreadable. "Sounds great," he agreed.

*

Steve Rogers was in Peter Parker's dorm room.

Steve Rogers was in Peter Parker's dorm room, sitting on his  _bed_.

Peter Parker's pants were getting awfully tight, but there was no  _way_ he was fucking this up by telling Steve Rogers that he had a gigantic crush on him. Sure, he fumbled every time Steve asked him to change slides, and yeah, it was really,  _really_ hard to concentrate on his homework, but Steve Rogers was sitting on his  _bed,_ praising  _his photography_ , and like  _hell_ was Peter going to mess this up. Nope. He was just going to stumble through this math homework, aaaand-

"Can I draw you?"

Peter's heart stopped. "What?"

Steve smiled that self-deprecating smile that made Peter want to kiss him senseless. "Can I draw you?" Steve repeated.

"I-- yeah sure." Peter spun around in his chair. "Do you want me to.. pose, or something?" Peter tried out a few goofy poses.

Steve's smile spread until his eyes twinkled. "No, just keep doing what you were doing. I want it to look natural."

 _Natural._ Steve wanted him to look  _natural._   _The world is laughing at me, I can feel it._ Peter tried his best to look normal and like he was not entirely freaking out on the inside. Fortunately, this next math problem was relatively lengthy and complicated, so it gave him something else to think about other than  _Steve Rogers staring at him and sitting on his bed._ He heard the pencil start scratching at the paper. He tried his darndest to focus on the math.

"You don't have to be nervous," Steve joked, "I've drawn people before." His voice was low and had a lilt to it that--  _holycrap is he_ flirting?!

"Relax," Steve drawled in that same tone. "Let me do the work. Just let it happen."

Peter's jeans were stretching very uncomfortably against his throbbing crotch. He was  _very_ glad Steve decided to draw him from the back.

"There you go," Steve drawled, low and lilting. "Just relax..." 

Peter heard a smile in his voice. He glanced at the reflection in his computer screen. Yep. Steve Rogers was definitely  _smiling._ "Kiiind of hard to relax with you talking to me like that," Peter said before he could stop his mouth.

Steve's smirk grew. "Your body language says otherwise." Steve kept sketching, calmly explaining, "Your shoulders have eased.. The lines of your body are a lot smoother now."

Peter highly doubted  _anything_ about him was smooth. Besides his hairless chest. "Whatever you say." Peter tried to finish the math problem, but there was a definite lack of bloodflow to his brain. It was kind of busy flowing somewhere else.  _Shit_ these pants were tight.

"Just a little more," Steve was murmuring, "aaand" Steve stopped sketching. "There!" He spun his sketchpad around for Peter to see.

Peter spun around in his chair without thinking about it and gaped at the sketchpad. "Wow!"

Steve's eyes glinted. "Wanna see my other sketches?" he offered, pulling his sketchbook back onto his knees.

"Sure!"

Steve moved over on the bed.

Peter's heart leapt into his throat. He stumbled over in the  _least_ suave way possible and sat on the bed next to Steve-fucking-Rogers. "It's only fair," Steve was saying as he flipped to the first page, "since you showed me your photographs."

"Not all of them," Peter blurted. Their elbows were touching.

Steve leaned even closer to share his sketchpad with Peter. "Well, these aren't nearly all my pictures," he replied with a smile in that low, low voice of his.

"Right." Violets and sun-warmed skin and a hint of aftershave. The warmth of skin through two layers of fabric. Steve's sketches were beautiful, but every time he flipped a page, his arm would move against Peter's, and it felt like a caress.

"Do you like them?" Steve asked much closer to Peter's ear than he expected.

Peter's dick twitched against his zipper. "Yeah," he answered breathlessly.

"I like your pictures," Steve said very quietly. His nose traced the shell of Peter's ear. "You're a very good photographer." His lips grazed Peter's earlobe.

"You think?" Peter asked breathlessly.

 _"Very_ good," Steve affirmed, lightly grazing his teeth across Peter's earlobe and gently exhaling to warm the spot. He closed his lips on the edge of Peter's earlobe and sucked.

Peter let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering.

Steve gently closed his sketchbook and set it aside. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispered.

_Not very fucking likely_

Steve ran his hand down the front of Peter's shirt, palm skating over the buttoned-closed red plaid fabric. His palm stopped just above Peter's crotch. Peter tilted his head back, eyes half-closed. Steve ran his hot palm back up the seam of Peter's shirt, and in one fluid motion, Steve straddled Peter's lap. His own bulge was a fraction of an inch away from Peter's. Steve gently kissed up Peter's neck to his jaw, sucking a little more each time. He kissed along Peter's jaw as he ran his palms up and down the outside of Peter's arms. Peter was breathing shakily, mouth ajar. "Just relax," Steve said in that maddeningly low voice, "Let me do the work." He sucked on Peter's neck. His hands drifted over Peter's collarbones as his tongue swirled hotly and the suction gradually increased. He nosed his way back up to Peter's ear, fingers poised on the first button. "Just let it happen."

Peter moaned.

Steve unbuttoned Peter's shirt, one maddeningly slow button at a time. By the time Steve pulled Peter's shirt open, Peter's chest was heaving. He'd leaked a heavy patch of pre-cum through his jeans.

"Can I kiss you?" Steve murmured against the corner of Peter's mouth.

Peter grabbed Steve's head with both hands and pulled him down desperately for an open-mouthed kiss. Steve held back at first, lips curling in an amused smirk, but soon his tongue was stroking Peter's just as fervently, and as though he wasn't driving Peter crazy enough already, he gently swiped his thumbs across Peter's exposed nipples. Peter moaned and arched against Steve, crotches brushing together.

Steve scooted closer until their crotches were pressed against each other. He rolled his hips in time with the strokes of his tongue.

Peter's hands roamed restlessly up and down Steve's fragile-looking back, rumpling the fabric. Steve's hands traced Peter's sides like he was painting him, touches delicate, like brushstrokes on a canvas. If this is what being painted felt like, Peter wanted to be a model for  _life._

Peter whimpered against Steve's mouth. He needed more friction.

"Can I touch you?" Steve whispered against the corner of Peter's mouth, one hand sliding hotly down the center of his torso and halting above his belt.

 _"God_ yes!"

Steve's fingers traced the belt buckle. "You're sure this isn't too fast?"

"No such thing as too fast," Peter whispered hurriedly.  _"Please!"_

Steve watched Peter's face through hooded eyes as he reached down to undo his belt buckle. Peter was relieved and aroused when he felt the belt give way; the waist of his pants loosened.

"You're  _sure?"_ Steve prodded, fingers poised on the button holding Peter's pants closed.

Peter thought of that one still frame from Spongebob where Squidward is overrendered and looks particularly grumpy, pointing at his face, just after asking "Does this look  _unsure_ to you?" Peter only realized he'd asked this question out loud when Steve grinned and unbuttoned and unzipped Peter's pants.  _"Fuck,"_ Peter gasped. Steve made quick work of freeing Peter's erection, but kept it covered by his boxers. Steve traced the shape through the fabric, forefinger and thumb tracing circles around the corona, gently tugging in pinching motions.

Steve was breathing rather heavily himself, hot breaths heating the side of Peter's neck.

 _"Please_ let me touch you," Peter pleaded.

Steve lifted his hips in response. He continued his torturous exploration of Peter's erection, tracing his fingers up and down the sides, spreading pre-cum  _through the fabric_ , while Peter hurriedly fumbled through opening Steve's pants. He wasn't really in the mood for 'slow.' So he just yanked Steve's erection right out and wrapped his hand around it. The second his hand was touching Steve's skin, the rest of the world felt like it was either floating, or had suddenly popped out of existence. He started pumping quickly, the way he wished Steve was pumping him.

Steve's breaths grew in pitch. "Slow down!" His hand trembled against Peter's erection.

 _"Touch_ me already!" Peter pleaded.

"All right, bossy." Steve reached his hand into Peter's boxers and stroked him with his erection still covered by the boxers.

Peter was definitely going to lose his mind.

Steve's grip gradually became more firm, his strokes faster and more sure, and he built up rhythm so well, Peter wasn't sure when the tip of his dick slipped free of the opening of his boxers, but next thing he knew, his dick was completely free, and Steve was stroking him from tip to hilt over and over, using his pre-cum as lube, and Peter was stroking Steve faster and faster, Steve's breaths were heavier and increasing in pitch, and then they were both stroking each other feverishly, panting into each other's necks, completely lost in the rhythm.

 _"Auh,"_  Steve groaned into Peter's neck, "Peter-- Peter I'm gonna--"

 _"Ohgod,_ me too!" 

Steve's breath caught and stuttered. His abdomen clenched. And then he was spurting all over Peter's hand, his stomach, warm splatters landing everywhere. He kept going, and going, and then Peter was coming too. Peter threw his head back and let out a loud  _"AUH!"_ as Steve pumped him dry.

They were both shaking in the aftermath, panting in order to catch their breath, eyes half-open. Just when Peter didn't think he could take any more, Steve  _licked his hand clean_ like a kitten licks milk from a saucer, and damn if Peter wasn't going to get off to that image for the rest of his friggin' life. Steve eyed Peter's torso briefly before meeting Peter's eyes, asking silent permission. Peter didn't say no. He leaned back in silent offering, chest still heaving. Steve leaned closer and bent his head to lick Peter's torso clean, using those same tender kitten licks. He acted like the stuff was  _delicious_.

Yeah. Peter was gonna remember this for a  _really_ friggin' long time.

Steve licked Peter's hand clean too, tongue caressing each crevice, each knuckle, each finger. He wiped his mouth off unnecessarily with the back of his hand and planted gentle kisses on Peter's torso until his face was level with Peter's again. "Welp," Steve said, "I guess that answers that question."

Peter was dizzy. "What question?"

Steve's mouth curled up on one side. "I told someone in my art class there was this cute guy I kept seeing around campus, wanted to know more about him. She knew a guy who knew him. And they said you'd been through a bad breakup right when you graduated high school, but they also said you were a sophomore and probably had time to get over it." Steve was tracing patterns absently on Peter's chest with his finger while he spoke. "They also said there was a chance you might swing both ways, but neither of them were sure. I wasn't really sure myself until I started flirting with you at the park."

"Wait, you  _were_ flirting with me?!"

Steve snickered. "Wasn't it obvious?"

"Well, I mean.. I kinda  _hoped_ you were," Peter admitted, heart rate picking up again.

Steve kissed his nose. "I was."

"So, we're..." Peter cleared his throat. Examined Steve's angelic, mischievous face. Oh how far he could fall for that face. "We're, what. Dating?"

Steve shrugged one shoulder. "If you want." He smirked. "Though this isn't exactly how I envisioned our first date going."

Peter blushed.

Steve kissed his cheek and backed away to re-situate his clothes. He tucked himself away and refastened his pants. "There's a cute little coffee shop on 9th. Meet me there Saturday, at three? -I can give you my phone number."

"I-- yeah. Yeah! That'd be great!"

*

Steve had hugged him good-bye. He was a few inches shorter than Peter, so his head fit perfectly under Peter's chin; his cheekbones slotted perfectly against Peter's collarbone.

Peter had stood there dazed for a good two minutes wondering if that had really just happened when he got a text from Steve saying 'See you Saturday at three! =)'

Peter turned up his stereo, cranked up 'Walking On Sunshine', and jumped on his bed.


End file.
